


you don't remember; i'll never forget

by shairiru



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Amnesia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 14:22:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3695630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shairiru/pseuds/shairiru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Who are you?”</p><p>The words cut through Seijuurou and he felt the world spinning beneath his feet, completely out of his control. His grip on the flowers he had brought tightened, crumpling the paper bouquet wrap.</p><p>“It’s me. Akashi.”</p><p>Shintarou looked at him as if years worth of memories never existed at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you don't remember; i'll never forget

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Teikou AkaMido Day!!!

 

The coffeeshop bustles with many customers, the thick aroma of ground coffee filling the space. Outside, the song of the cicadas fill the summer air. Midorima Shintarou sits on a table just beside the glass panes, a book on hand and a steaming cup of coffee waiting to be drank. The words seem familiar yet foreign to him and he has to stop from time to time, trying to comprehend the plot. Who was the victim again? He feels like he knows who the suspect is already but he can’t quite form his thoughts.

 

He looks up from his book and catches a familiar person from the corner of his eye. He tries to look closer, but the person is already gone.

 

-

 

“Would you mind if I sit with you?”

 

Shintarou looks up from the page he’s been stuck in for many minutes and meets a bright, red gaze. The man’s hair is equally red and reminds him of a blazing bonfire. He looks around and notices the coffeeshop to be full. When did it happen?

 

“I can’t find any free table,” the man smiles apologetically. 

 

“Sure,” he tells him, “ Take a seat.”

 

“Thank you,” he pulls the chair out and sits, placing his cup of tea on the table.

 

Shintarou returns to reading his book but the sight of red in front distracts him. He peeks at the man in front of him and sees him looking back.

 

“Ah, I’m sorry,” the man’s eyes widen for being caught looking, “The book you’re reading, it’s a favorite of mine. Enjoying so far?”

 

“I think I know who the murderer is already.”

 

“That’s what the author would like you to think,” he sips from his tea and his eyes glint with fascination, “Read on and you’ll find yourself wrong.”

 

He closes his book instead, much to the other man’s surprise.

 

“Am I supposed to know you?”

 

-

 

“Why not just tell him?”

 

“It’s no use. He’ll forget about it anyway.”

 

-

 

Shintarou walks along familiar streets, the images around him pass by in a blur. The cold wind blows and reminds him that winter is soon approaching. Even the days are hard to recall. Wasn’t it just summer a few weeks ago?

 

He rests under a bus stop, leaning his head against the cool metal. He pulls his scarf over his nose and closes his eyes. 

 

“How was your walk?” He opens his eyes to the familiar voice. A man with bright red hair stands beside him, his hands hidden in the pockets of his coat. “It’s getting chilly, isn’t it?”

 

“It is,” he answers blankly. He seems oddly familiar. “I feel like I’m supposed to go somewhere today.”

 

“There is a hospital in the next corner. I believe you must have been on your way there for an appointment with your doctor.”

 

Something clicks in his mind.

 

“Right! I was supposed to go to therapy. I hope I’m not late,” he looks at his wristwatch. 2:46 PM. “I should go now.”

 

“Sure,” the man tells him with a fond smile, “See you around.”

 

He remains standing, looking at him intently. A crease forms between his eyebrows and his glasses slide a little down his nose.

 

“I’m sorry if I can’t remember you.”

 

His smile wavers and he bites his lower lip. He looks away, the sunlight casting shadows on his face. Midorima can’t help but stare. There is something beautiful and enigmatic before him and his mind itches at a memory.

 

“It’s alright,” his voice is soft and determined, “I know you will.”

 

-

 

A leather-bound journal sits open on Shintarou’s lap. His personal information is written on the front page. On the next, his appointments with his doctor so that he will not miss any. The following pages are all empty, except for a few with some important notes. His doctor, Kuroko Tetsuya, said it belonged to him before.

 

“When you wake up from a dream, you tend to forget them. People have discovered that if they write what they dreamt of the moment they wake up, their tendency to recall dreams increases. Memories, in some way, can be likened to dreams. What I want you to do is write on this journal the things that happens to you everyday. Do not wait until the end of the day to write them all down as you might have forgotten about them already. Write them at once. Always have this by your side.”

 

“Is it really safe for me to go out on my own in my condition?” 

 

“Your sister is looking out for you, isn’t she?”

 

“But she’s not here today. I think she has...work. Or something. I can’t remember.”

 

“Ah, well then, I’ve told you this before. There is someone else looking out for you.”

 

“Who is?”

 

-

 

“Would his journal really help him recover?”

 

Tetsuya stops from arranging his patients' files to look at Seijuurou. He is peering through the blinds, watching Shintarou’s retreating figure. 

 

“I hope you would have more trust in my methods, Akashi-kun.”

 

“Forgive me,” he sighs and turns around, “I will go now then and ensure he arrives safely at his apartment.”

 

“Don’t forget his appointment for next week.”

 

“Shizuka will be the one accompanying him by then. Nonetheless, thank you, Kuroko.”

 

“It’s my duty. Please take care of yourself, too.”

 

Seijuurou smiles weakly, the dark circles under his eyes showing, “I will.”

 

-

 

“Thank you for keeping an eye today on him. The meeting at the office was something I can’t skip.”

 

“It’s alright, Shizuka. Just call me again if you need me.”

 

Seijuurou stands just outside Shintarous’s sister’s apartment with her. Shintarou has been staying with her ever since he got out of the hospital. He had no memory of having his own apartment with Seijuurou. In fact, Seijuurou had been sleeping alone for quite some time.

 

“I’m really sorry about this,” she smiles apologetically, “I know it’s hard especially since he still can’t remember you but…thank you for staying.”

 

He looks behind her through the glass windows and sees Shintarou bent over the leather journal Tetsuya gave him. The light from the setting sun gives him an almost ethereal glow and he thinks of how far Shintarou is in this close distance they have in between. But until he gets his memories back, he will not let his resolve weaken in any way.

 

“I have no intention of leaving.”

 

-

 

“Imagine yourself on a beach.” Shintarou lies on the bed in Tetsuya’s office, his eyes closed as instructed. Tetsuya sits beside him, a notepad on hand, the point of his pen hovering just above the page. “What do you see?”

 

Everything is silent for a while, only the rhythmic ticking of the pendulum clock on the wall filling the room.

 

“Blue. I can see the sky.”

 

“Are there any clouds?”

 

“No, just…clear blue. It’s bright.”

 

“What else do you see?”

 

“…Nothing. But I can hear the waves of the sea…and children playing…I can hear the wind.”

 

“It’s alright. You can open your eyes now,” Tetsuya writes down the things he heard. He returns to his table and then fills up some documents concerning Shintarou’s condition.

 

“Is he any better?” Shizuka asks. 

 

“No,” Tetsuya shakes his head, “but he isn’t worse, and that’s a good thing. You have been writing in your journal, Midorima-kun?”

 

“Regularly,” he pushes up his glasses and straightens his shirt. He can still hear the murmurs of the waves on the beach. “I can at least remember Shizuka’s address now.”

 

“That’s good progress,” Tetsuya compliments, “These things do take time. All we need is patience and a strong will, yes?”

 

“Of course,” Shizuka smiles and takes her brother’s hand. He gently squeezes back. “I mean, we could have had it worse. I’m just glad you’re here.”

 

He absentmindedly touches the scar that runs from his back to his left shoulder, the only thing that tells him of the accident that he supposedly got into. They told him it was raining heavily that day and his wheels weren’t suited for the road. It was a miracle that he survived the crash.

 

“There isn’t any recurrence of pain?”

 

“None,” he answers. Why does it feel like something’s amiss?

 

“Good. Please contact me at once if there will be any. Well, that would be for today. The next appointment is in two weeks time. Don’t forget to write on your journal, Midorima-kun...Midorima-kun? Are you alright?”

 

Shintarou jumps on his seat in surprise. He had been staring outside the window blankly for the past few seconds.

 

“Ah, sorry. I was just...,” he looks around the room, his forehead creased in a frown, “Shouldn’t there be someone else with us right now?”

 

Shizuka and Tetsuya glance at each other.

 

“Who do you mean?”

 

“Someone...someone with red hair.”

 

-

 

“He looked for you earlier.”

 

Seijuurou stops on the middle of the hallway, leaning against the cold steel walls of the office. He breathes once, twice, thrice. The meeting will not start in ten more minutes. He transfers the phone to his other ear.

 

“How?”

 

“He told us someone with red hair should have been there with us.”

 

“It could be someone else.”

 

“Akashi-kun, it’s alright to be extra hopeful sometimes.”

 

He closes his eyes and smiles. He has always been hopeful. 

 

“Thank you, Kuroko.”

  

. . . 

 

It was raining heavily that day, and only his worry about Shintarou kept Seijuurou from exceeding the speed limit. He was in the middle of a meeting when he received the call that Shintarou had been caught in an accident and was brought in the hospital. He was just speaking to him an hour earlier about their dinner that night. How could have it happened so fast?

 

Shintarou was fighting for his life. Seijuurou wanted to be there to fight alongside him, but a glass window separates the two of them. He can only watch as the doctors treated him. He never left the hospital until he was assured that Shintarou’s condition was finally stable. It took over a day for it to happen.

 

Regularly, he visited even though Shintarou was yet to regain consciousness. The doctors have warned them that they cannot assure his psychological condition given the gravity of the accident, but Seijuurou believed in something greater. In someone.

 

“We are Miracles,” Seijuurou had told Shintarou with only the whirring machines to hear him, “aren’t we?”

 

The day Shintarou woke up, he was unresponsive. He was conscious, but he did not react to anyone or anything. It was almost as if he was on a trance. _Rest assured, this is normal,_ the doctor told them, _He is lucky to be awake at all. We expect full recovery in a few days or weeks._

 

Seijuurou held on to hope.

 

Everyday he did not fail to visit Shintarou and talk to him. He might not have been responding, but Seijuurou knew he can hear. And he did not want him to feel all alone within the four white walls of his room. He waited for the day he would see those green eyes spark with challenge once again.

 

. . .

 

 

Cherry blossoms dance freely with the wind outside the restaurant. Shintarou stares at the man in front of him hard enough to make an average human squirm, but he just stares back with a soft smile. Shintarou breathes out in agitation.

 

“We’re not in a hurry,” the man tells him in a soothing voice, “Take your time.”

 

A waiter excuses himself and brings them the lunch they ordered. Shizuka is yet again busy for the day and she told him to meet up with a friend. He’s pretty sure Shizuka had told him the name, but just as usual, things escape his mind so easily.

 

“Red...,” he closes his eyes, trying to recall the person’s name. He should have known him by now. They have crossed paths more than once. “...Aka...shi?”

 

His red eyes glint happily. “Yes.”

 

Shintarou leans back on his chair and lets out a relieved sigh. He writes the name down on his journal. _Akashi._ His hands move smoothly over the paper as if he has written the name a lot of times already.

 

“Akashi...,” he lets the sound roll between his lips. It has a nice feeling to it. “What’s your first name again?”

 

“Seijuurou.”

 

“Like this?” he shows him the characters he has written next to his surname.

 

Seijuurou smiles at him. “Exactly.”

 

 

. . .

 

He had looked forward into coming when he got the message that Shintarou had finally broke out from his unresponsive state. He had thought of many things he would say, but it didn’t prepare him for what he heard.

 

“Who are you?”

 

The words cut through Seijuurou and he felt the world spinning beneath his feet, completely out of his control. His grip on the flowers he had brought tightened, crumpling the paper bouquet wrap.

 

“It’s me. Akashi.”

 

Shintarou looked at him as if years worth of memories never existed at all. 

 

-

 

Shintarou’s last memory, as the doctor relayed to them, was of his small biking accident in fifth grade where he lost consciousness. Shizuka was sitting next to him that time together with their parents, as shocked as him with how things turned out.

 

Seijuurou tuned out somewhere in the middle of the doctor’s explanation. He didn’t need any more elaboration on how Shintarou will not remember more than half of his life. It was unfair. It was unjust.

 

“It’s not the only problem,” the words got back his attention, “This case of forgetting his past memories, retrogade amnesia, rarely comes alone. We have just confirmed that he also suffers anterograde amnesia. It’s where one will have problems creating new memories. This is a pretty severe case, but given the gravity of his accident, it was within expectations.”

 

“Can he recover in any way?” Shintarou’s mother asked, the tears she was holding back evident from how her voice shook. The same question racked his mind.

 

“I cannot say so for sure that he can recover completely. But with rigorous therapy, he might get better. All we can do now is hope.”

 

Ever since, Seijuurou held on to that four-letter word.

 

. . . 

 

 

It has been almost two years since Shintarou has started therapy. Little by little, his oldest memories are coming back to him, and his retention for new memories has become significantly better. 

 

After Shintarou’s appointment with Tetsuya that morning, he asks Seijuurou to show him places they have been to before. He gladly complies, thankful for the time he gets to spend with him. He drives him around the city, showing him familiar spots. The convenience store where they used to go after school. The street court where they used to play. The corner where they used to part ways.

“In middle school, on our first day, I saw you on a car,” Shintarou tells him on the way back to Shizuka’s apartment.

 

“Really?”

 

“Then you came to school walking. I remember thinking how it’s such a waste of time...I mean, you were literally a few blocks away from school. Why get off? Didn’t really strike a good impression on me...but then I got to know you more, probably? And somehow I understood your reasons? I still can’t remember why...but that’s the feeling I get.”

 

“First day of middle school, you were holding a phone book,” Seijuurou tells him in a fond voice, “And I thought to myself, ‘ _what use would a phone book be on the first day of classes?_ ’ I was worried I might have missed an announcement to bring one, but then I got to know you in class-we were classmates-and you told everyone about how it was your lucky item for the day. I’ve never met such an interesting individual until that moment.”

 

“I must have been _the_ weird kid in middle school.”

 

“Your unmatched shooting skills made up for it well, don’t you worry.”

 

“Could you tell me more about that time?”

 

Seijuurou is happy to indulge.

 

By the time they arrive at Shizuka’s house, Seijuurou has just finished telling the story of how Shintarou had stayed behind just to clean the lockers of the first string.

 

“You always had a thing with cleanliness.”

 

“That’s a trait that surpasses memory loss,” Shintarou says with a light laugh. “Even Shizuka tells me I’m _too_ orderly in her house. But I don’t feel things are alright until they are orderly, you know what I mean? Look at that, outside, too many leaves. I always tell Shizuka to get ready for autumn. That girl, really, she never listens. Well, this is it for today. Thank you for showing me around.”

 

“I hope you enjoyed it.”

 

“Very. Ah, I should probably write it down immediately. Wouldn’t want to forget a day like this. Until next time?”

 

Seijuurou turns to him, and somehow, there is something different in the way his eyes stared into his. Shintarou feels something inside him respond. 

 

“Midorima,” his voice comes out softly but it tugs at him with fervor, “can you grant one request of mine?” 

 

-

 

“Shizuka?”

 

“What is it?” she pokes her head out from the kitchen’s doorway. She sees her brother all dressed up to go out. “Where are you going?”

 

“It’s the twentieth of December today, isn’t it?”

 

“Yeah,” she answers tentatively. Snow falls steadily outside. “Is there any matter?”

 

“It’s Akashi’s birthday.”

 

-

 

When Shizuka and Shintarou show up in front of his door, Seijuurou almost thinks he’s dreaming. It is the twentieth of December, and he had thought he would celebrate his birthday all alone again for the third time. He lets them in and graciously accepts the cake they have brought.

 

“Thank you,” he tells them, “You should have told me you would come.”

 

“Don’t blame me,” Shizuka shrugs with a small smile, “Brother remembered your birthday and insisted we go here.”

 

“You did?” he turns to Shintarou, surprised. Shizuka leaves the two of them to prepare the table for their small celebration.

 

“Well...it was written in my journal. I came across it last week I think? And I took note. I’m actually glad I did not forget it. I’m getting better, aren’t I?”

 

“Don’t get too excited,” he reprimands him lightly, “These things take a long time.”

 

“Remember the book I was reading in the coffeeshop quite some time ago?”

 

“That was over a year ago,” Seijuurou tells him with wonder, “You recalled that?”

 

“Well,” Shintarou throws him a satisfied smile, “I did tell you I was getting better. I just remembered it recently. I was totally right about the doctor.”

 

“But you didn’t think of the judge, did you?”

 

“That is a mistake I admit to have committed,” he runs his hand through his hair and Seijuurou can’t help but follow it with his eyes, “He was a clever man.”

 

“He really was. I admire his ingenuity, though.” he returns his eyes back to Shintarou’s face and their eyes meet.

 

“Tell me one thing,” Shintarou drops his hand and eyes the pictures displayed on the cabinet not far from them, “First of December, approximately four in the afternoon, we were inside your car. You asked me if I will grant you a kiss. I did. Right?”

 

“...You took note of all that?”

 

“No. I just remembered. So, we _did_ kiss. I can’t seem to forget the feeling,” he walks closer to the pictures and sees himself on them, smiling ever so slightly together with Seijuurou. He picks up one where the two of them were wearing sky blue and white jerseys, holding up a huge trophy. Familiar faces were behind. “This was when...we won the Nationals in second year middle school.”

 

“Yes,” Seijuurou is at loss of words. Is Shintarou actually coming back?

 

“I remember...Aomine, right? And the blond guy...Kise...they were arguing who would be next to this person in the picture. Isn’t this Kuroko?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Shintarou returns the picture frame on its place and lets his gaze wander over the many photos displayed. Seijuurou watches as a fond smile grows on his face, and his eyes sparkle with the slightest recollection.

 

“We were always together,” Shintarou notes.

 

“Most of the time.”

 

Shintarou picks up a new frame and shows it to Seijuurou. It’s a picture of them in their college years, dirty with paint, smiles bright, hands linked. They have shared many happy times together, but it’s seldom that they are captured behind the camera. Pictures, after all, immortalize what the mind might forget.

 

“Can you grant me my request this time?” Shintarou asks, “Tell me more about the two of us.”

 

Seijuurou takes a step closer and gets the picture frame from Shintarou, letting his hand linger over his for a second too long. It is foolish to think Shintarou’s memories have come back all at once. He should have known better. 

 

“I’m warning you, though, this will take a long time.”

 

“I’m listening.”

 

Seijuurou looks into Shintarou’s eyes, and he sees a familiar spark. There he realizes all he has to do is be patient. 

 

And not lose the hope he had been holding on to ever since. 

 

There are things that lost memories cannot take away.

 

“The two of us...”

 

. 

**Author's Note:**

> The book Akashi and Midorima talked about is "And Then There Were None" by Agatha Christie.  
> I tried to keep this as scientifically-accurate as possible but yeah, sorry for mistakes on that area (:3 This has been sitting on my wips folder since February and I'm just glad I am one wip less now TvT


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